The Bibliotaph | Page 2

had a library in Oxford, one at
Paris, one at Antwerp, one at Brussels, and one at Ghent. The most
accurate estimate of his collections places the number at 146,827
volumes. Heber is believed to have spent half a million dollars for
books. After his death the collections were dispersed. The catalogue
was published in twelve parts, and the sales lasted over three years.
Heber had a witty way of explaining why he possessed so many copies
of the same book. When taxed with the sin of buying duplicates he
replied in this manner: 'Why, you see, sir, no man can comfortably do
without three copies of a book. One he must have for his show copy,
and he will probably keep it at his country house; another he will
require for his own use and reference; and unless he is inclined to part
with this, which is very inconvenient, or risk the injury of his best copy,
he must needs have a third at the service of his friends.'
In the pursuit of a coveted volume Heber was indefatigable. He was not
of those Sybaritic buyers who sit in their offices while agents and
dealers do the work. 'On hearing of a curious book he has been known
to put himself into the mail-coach, and travel three, four, or five
hundred miles to obtain it, fearful to trust his commission to a letter.'
He knew the solid comfort to be had in reading a book catalogue.
Dealers were in the habit of sending him the advance sheets of their

lists. He ordered books from his death-bed, and for anything we know
to the contrary died with a catalogue in his fingers.
A life devoted to such a passion is a stumbling-block to the practical
man, and to the Philistine foolishness. Yet you may hear men praised
because up to the day of death they were diligent in business,--business
which added to life nothing more significant than that useful thing
called money. Thoreau used to say that if a man spent half his time in
the woods for the love of the woods he was in danger of being looked
upon as a loafer; but if he spent all his time as a speculator, shearing off
those woods and making Earth bald before her time, he was regarded as
an upright and industrious citizen.
Heber had a genius for friendship as well as for gathering together
choice books. Sir Walter Scott addressed verses to him. Professor
Porson wrote emendations for him in his favorite copy of Athenæus. To
him was inscribed Dr. Ferrier's poetical epistle on Bibliomania. His
virtues were celebrated by Dibdin and by Burton. In brief, the sketch of
Heber in The Gentleman's Magazine for January, 1834, contains a list
of forty-six names,--all men of distinction by birth, learning, or genius,
and all men who were proud to call Richard Heber friend. He was a
mighty hunter of books. He was genial, scholarly, generous.
Out-of-door men will be pleased to know that he was active physically.
He was a tremendous walker, and enjoyed tiring out his bailiff by an
all-day tramp.
Of many good things said of him this is one of the best: 'The learned
and curious, whether rich or poor, have always free access to his
library.' Thus was it possible for Scott very truthfully to say to Heber,
'Thy volumes open as thy heart.'
No life of this Prince of Book-Hunters has been written, I believe.
Some one with access to the material, and a sympathy with the love of
books as books, should write a memoir of Heber the Magnificent. It
ought not to be a large volume, but it might well be about the size of
Henry Stevens's Recollections of James Lenox. And if it were equally
readable it were a readable book indeed.

Dibdin thought that Heber's tastes were so catholic as to make it
difficult to classify him among hunters of books. The implication is that
most men can be classified. They have their specialties. What pleases
one collector much pleases another but little or not at all. Collectors
differ radically in the attitude they take with respect to their volumes.
One man buys books to read, another buys them to gloat over, a third
that he may fortify them behind glass doors and keep the key in his
pocket. Therefore have learned words been devised to make apparent
the varieties of motive and taste. These words begin with biblio; you
may have a biblio almost anything.
Two interesting types of maniac are known respectively as the
bibliotaph and the biblioclast. A biblioclast is one who indulges himself
in the questionable pleasure of mutilating books in order more
sumptuously to fit out a particular volume. The disease is English in
origin, though some